


No more miracles

by Takeira



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Being a Bastard, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Crowley Being a Bastard (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Miracles, Not Beta Read, Oneshot, Teasing, but also possible setup for something bigger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takeira/pseuds/Takeira
Summary: The pining ineffables agreeing on not using any more miracles. Sort of.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	No more miracles

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic. Any constructive criticism appreciated! It's 4:30 in the morning, mom's already awake and I just finished my first fanfic ever.  
> If anyone likes reading this, I shall be the happiest little bundle of sleep deprivation in the world!  
> Also, English is not my first language, so, sorry for any incomprehensible nonsense.  
> Also also, the idea od stopping using miracles is not my original idea, I got it from tumblr.

“Angel?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Y´know, being on our side and all that, cutting contact with the superiors… Have you tried performing any miracles yet?”

Aziraphale lifted his gaze from the book and settled it on the demon sprawled on the sofa.  
It had been almost a week after the Not-pocalypse. They were in the back room of the bookshop, drinking wine. Aziraphale was reading one of the books Adam had put into existence there. Among other first edition children´s fiction books the Antichrist had manifested while resurrecting the angel´s beloved bookshop, Aziraphale had found a true rarity. It was the book Adam had written himself. The pirate who became a detective, and his companion, the cowboy-fighting dinosaur. He was reading out loud the funniest, most over the top passages (so, basically the whole book) to Crowley, who was mostly silent. Until now.

He thought for a few seconds before answering “No, not yet. I am a bit afraid to try using any of my powers, to be completely honest.”

A moment of silence.

“Have you?” 

“Nope. Same reason.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. Then he took the I-do-not-need-these-but-they-suit-me reading glasses off, carefully set them on the table, got up from the chair he was sitting in and started walking around the room. Crowley was watching him the whole time.

Oh dear, the angel thought to himself, what if we don´t get to do miracles anymore? What if us, being on our side, means both Upstairs and Downstairs will cut our powers off?

He communicated his concerns to Crowley.

“Or,” the demon joined in, “what if the miracles won´t work the way they should?”

The angel gave him a slightly panicked look.  
“What do you mean?”

“I don´t know. Like, maybe, our powers will be… not as powerful? Watered down. What d´you think, angel?”

Looking progressively more worried, after some more pacing, Aziraphale grabbed the half-full wine bottle, drank the rest of it in one swing (with Crowley humming both in approval and astonishment) and put it back on the table. He then looked at it, then at Crowley, then at the bottle again. Aziraphale took a deep breath and made a small gesture with his hand.  
And voilà, the bottle was full.  
Still visibly worried, he watched the bottle, as if he was expecting it to explode, or say I love you, or do something similarly terrifying. Which it didn´t.  
A few seconds passed before the angel, a bit calmer, took the bottle again, taking a heavy swing, only to find out that he wasn´t drinking wine. It was water.

With a mixture of horror and shock he looked at the demon who stared back at him, mirroring his concern.

And then the bastard burst out laughing.

“You should´ve seen your expression! Priceless!” Crowley laughed and laughed as he snapped his fingers, turning the water back into the wine Aziraphale had miracled.

“Very funny,” the angel wanted to sound annoyed, but he was too relieved. Besides, he found Crowley´s laughter rather endearing. He sat himself on the sofa, next to him.

“I believe you had a point when you asked me the question, dear?” Aziraphale miracled two glasses out of thin air, pouring generous amounts of the wine.

“What?” Crowley was still shaking with laughter, wiping his eyes behind the omnipresent sunglasses.

“When you asked me about the miracles in the first place. Dear boy, you do have the attention span of a hummingbird.”

Cowley, having no idea how focused hummingbirds are, decided not to be offended. He liked hummingbirds. Very tasty.  
“Sure. Miracles, yeah.” He suppressed his thoughts on getting a hummingbird tattoo and went back to the topic.

“I ceratinly hope your point wasn´t simply making fun of me, or was it?” Aziraphale, genuinely curious about the answer, jumped in front of Crowley´s train of thought yet again.  
Crowley opened his mouth to say something (most probably to point out the water pun), but the angel was faster, starting his sentence with a dramatic gasp of sudden realization.

“My, you do have a point!” he looked concerned again. “We shouldn´t use our powers as recklessly as we used to.”

Crowley closed his mouth. Then he opened it, “We-”

“And both of us have just used our powers without any second thought! Oh dear…”

Crowley tried again. “But-”

“Oh, I know, it was just to make sure we still had them.”

Crowley stopped trying. 

“But the glasses, I didn´t have to summon these! I could have just walked to the cupboard and take them!”

“That´sss a fair point, angel,” Crowley finally got to say something. “We should lay low.” And for the sake of Someone, I would love to lay with you.

“I fully agree, my dear.”

“What?”

“Attract as little attention as possible.”

“Oh. Right.” You sure do attract all of my attention, Crowley thought, absentmindedly licking his lips, noticing his tongue is forked. Not the best time to get sidetracked, Crowley. Yes, I know. Thank you for the input, Crowley.

“So, no more miracles, then?”

“Yup,” Crowley, interrupted from his inner dialogue, raised his glass in a toast. “No more miracles.”

Aziraphale raised his glass in response. Just one last, he smiled to himself rather unangelically, watching Crowley drink the liquid that suddenly looked way too transparent to be wine.

The unsuspecting demon took a sip, clicked his tongue and turned his head to the angel.  
“Really?”

**Author's Note:**

> I have forgotten all the stuff we learned in English about tenses and reported speech omggggg  
> Seriously, if you find any mistakes, please, let me know. Thank you <3


End file.
